The End of Despair
by cepaul518
Summary: Edward has been tormented by loneliness for many years, but that will soon change...
1. Change

The floor was rotting by this fireplace. Soon he wouldn't be able to sleep there anymore. He'd have to find a new place to lay. He looked longingly at his magazine and newspaper cutouts that hung from the mantle.  
  
Edward's arms hung limply at his sides, weighed down by his blades that protruded from what should have been his hands. He gazed at the picture of the blind boy reading Braille with his fingertips.  
  
Fingertips. Fingers. Hands. Edward had none of these. Instead he had digits of steel, sharp scissors that had once been used to slice food for his creator. His "father" had died long ago, and Edward felt that he too would die of loneliness.  
  
But Edward did not age, and it was unclear if he even knew for certain what death was. All he knew at this point was that he felt empty, as though he was nonexistent.  
  
He thought of Kim, as he did everyday. Many nights he considered creeping down to her house and silently letting himself in. It would be so easy to just go down there and pick the lock, just to see her face again.  
  
However, he did not go. He couldn't risk the secret getting out that he was indeed still alive. His protection from the public was their ignorance to his existence. So he waited for her to come visit him. Unfortunately, she never did.  
  
Edward didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew it was significant. Over the years, he had seen the surrounding Easter-colored houses torn down and rebuilt. The neighborhood harboring his cul-de-sac had changed drastically, and yet no one had come to investigate the mansion. In place of the pastel candy-colored houses were now domiciles that had been built up by middle-upper class citizens. He doubted very much that Kim or her family lived in one of these new homes.  
  
As he stared out of the gigantic hole in his ceiling, his dark liquid eyes began to water. He didn't dare wipe them. 


	2. Mackenzie

Twenty-five year old Mackenzie stood in the driveway of her new house. The budding young physicist managed to get a damned good career straight out of college, and after a few years of saving, she was able to purchase a home worthy of envy - it was two stories tall and had a lovely brick driveway. It was definitely a home too large for a single person, but Mackenzie liked a lot of room.  
  
She didn't mind the creepy looking mansion on the hill down the road at all. It produced a rather classical feel to the area, and there was an enormous sense of mystery about it. She always loved a good mystery.  
  
She stood and gazed at the manor for a while with an expression of curiosity, her arms folded across her chest, then made her way back into the house as the sun began to set. She drank some tea before going to bed, and after she fell asleep, she dreamed of haunted houses and pale ghosts.  
  
The next morning was a Saturday and Mackenzie woke up early to go for a run. She ran around the neighborhood several times, and each time she ran in the direction of the giant hill that the mansion rested on, her curiosity grew. She wondered if anyone lived there and then instantly doubted it. She never saw any lights on up there. As she reached the end of the cul-de-sac, instead of running around it and back in the opposite direction like she normally would have done, she stopped and gazed up the hill. She was completely enthralled. She planted her hands on her hips and breathed heavily, then craned her neck around to see if anyone was watching her. Seeing that there was no one, without further consideration, she began to jog up the dirt road towards the abandoned mansion.  
  
She reached an iron-wrought gate after about fifteen minutes. It was a hard run up the hill, and she was dripping with sweat. The gate was almost unnoticeable, for it was covered with overgrown vines and leaves. She opened it as delicately as possible and squeezed through. After closing it, she turned around and immediately gasped.  
  
The front lawn of the mansion was a colorful garden of a variety of topiaries and flowering plants. Everything looked perfectly up kept and taken care of. Perhaps she had been wrong in assuming no one lived there. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at the collapsing buttresses and statues that adorned the outer walls.  
  
How could anyone live here? she thought. The place is falling apart. It looks like it should be deemed condemned.  
  
Mackenzie walked slowly towards the front door, marveling at the perfectly crafted animal topiaries. There was a stag that stood majestically off to the left, as though it was guarding the path, and a large serpent loomed to her right. There was also what appeared to be a large hand reaching right out of the ground.  
  
She finally reached the door, and feeling a bit silly, rapped on the door with the large knocker. She could hear it echo on the other side, and knew the place had to be deserted. She took a deep breath, pushed on the massive wooden door, and stepped into the darkness. 


	3. Discovery

Edward started at the sound of the knock. The echo of it carried throughout the house, all the way up to the attic where he was sitting. He snipped his fingers as he trembled with an all too familiar dread, and stared at the doorway that led downstairs--but then suddenly he became optimistic. Had Kim come back? Excitement rapidly wiped out his fear. He quietly shuffled down the steps to peer around the corner down into the foyer. A girl with a long blonde ponytail was coming through the front door.  
  
Mackenzie stood in awe and let the door behind her hang open in order to properly light what she was seeing. Before her was a massive contraption of some sort. There was a conveyor belt and several generators that looked as though they could have been steam-driven. This place had to be at least a hundred years old. Most definitely more.  
  
She moved forward towards the assembly and noticed a large storage rack full of cookie cutters in all different shapes and sizes. She heard a small sound behind her, but dismissed it as the door creaking in the breeze. She almost leapt out of her shoes when someone behind her spoke.  
  
"Kim?" a plaintive voice asked.  
  
Mackenzie whirled around. The startled pale face she saw before her indicated that she was not whom he expected.  
  
"You're not Kim," he said, backing away quickly, suddenly realizing his dire mistake of revealing himself to her.  
  
She stared at him in horror, unable to speak or scream. The black-clad man was holding what appeared to be large blades. He was holding them out in front of himself defensively, and she subconsciously wondered why on earth he should be afraid of her. He was the one that looked like he had come straight out of hell.  
  
They backed away from each other rapidly, and Mackenzie caught her foot on the large storage rack. She tripped and fell over backwards. Frantically, she reached up to grab onto something, but instead succeeded in only pulling the large heavy rack over onto herself. Cookie cutters toppled everywhere. She frantically tried to push it off, afraid the man with the blades would take advantage of her misfortune and try to chop her to bits. The rack wouldn't budge. After several more moments of panicky attempts to haul it off of her, she stopped to catch her breath. She considered yelling for help, but knew no one would be able to hear her all the way up here.  
  
Something moved into her field of view. A face emerged first, a horribly scarred, pale face. The man didn't look vicious at all, only frightened and curious. The hair atop his head was a tangled mess, as though he didn't have the faintest idea of how to use a comb. The metal blades moved into view next, and her eyes widened. Just as she opened her mouth to scream, he spoke again.  
  
"Please--" his voice was so soft. Mackenzie stared at him.  
  
"Who are you?" she demanded.  
  
"Edward," the plaintive voice answered again. He had come closer and was warily analyzing her predicament.  
  
"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" she asked, clutching the rack to her, afraid for her life. He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving her. They stared at each other for a moment, both unsure of what to say next.  
  
Mackenzie suddenly realized being pinned to the ground by a large metal object was quite uncomfortable, and ask for Edward's help. He approached her, raising his scissored hands out, and then paused as though unsure of how to proceed. She drew back at the sight of them.  
  
"Those--" she began quietly. "Those are your hands?"  
  
Edward nodded silently as he braced the palms of his bladed hands against the storage rack. He was incredibly strong; probably more so than he realized, and within moments, he had lifted it up enough for Mackenzie to squirm out from underneath it. She scrambled to her feet and dusted herself off. The two then stood and studied each other for a moment.  
  
Suddenly realizing that she should introduce himself and thank him, she spoke. "I-I'm Mackenzie Tate--"  
  
A small smile pulled at the corner of Edward's mouth.  
  
"--And, thanks. For that," she gestured to the rack that remained on the floor. He nodded again, visibly a tad more comfortable with her presence, for he had stopped snipping so insistently.  
  
Mackenzie pressed further conversation while eyeing his hands. "So, do you live here all alone?"  
  
Another simple, timid nod.  
  
"And," she asked delicately, "how did you come by those hands of yours?"  
  
Edward's eyes widened a bit and paused, as if he was trying to find the best answer. He then gestured to the easel in near the window where his father's illustrations were mounted. "I'm not finished," he said simply.  
  
Mackenzie didn't quite understand. "Not finished? With what?" She walked towards the easel to see what he was indicating. On the first page appeared to be some sort of mechanized food-chopper. It looked if had a personality all its own, as though its creator liked to surround himself with human-esque machines of burden. She flipped through the pages and saw that the apparatus was progressively transforming into a person. Bits and pieces of metal gradually formed into live limbs of flesh and blood. The machine's lifeless eyes turned into the eyes of a timid man, filled with intelligence and curiosity. She realized it was the development of Edward, and she gaped in awe.  
  
The genius of it all. Being a scientist herself, Mackenzie was enthralled. A man had created a human being from--well, God knows what. He managed to recreate not only the human body, but also the human spirit.  
  
But there was more. The finalized vision of Edward consisted of a well- tailored man.whole and complete. And yet, as he was now standing beside her, she saw that something had gone drastically wrong.  
  
"Edward," she whispered.  
  
He turned his hollowed face to her, his eyes curious.  
  
"Where is your-your father, Edward?"  
  
He had heard that question before. He remembered that day clearly and what he had said. He found himself repeating those very same words.  
  
"He didn't wake up." 


End file.
